Five Minutes
by carouselhazard
Summary: Cornelia and Guilford: A History. Why? Because they were young, once. / Preview C006: "When I Knighted you, I felt like I was making the biggest mistake of my life." [COMPLETE]
1. Coffee Break

This'll be the first in a series of.. eh, who knows. Short stories.

Disclaimer: Code Geass isn't mine. Dur.

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><p><strong>001 – Coffee Break (2007 a.t.b.)<br>**

When she found him, he wasn't moving.

Perfect.

At a passing glance, he appeared to be focused on his reading. But upon closer inspection, which none really dared to, his forehead was resting against the back of his left hand. His glasses - new frames, she noted - dangled from his fingertips. The pen in his other hand stopped dancing between his long fingers just a little over five minutes ago.

His eyes were closed.

Cornelia grinned at the sight: Lord Gilbert G.P. Guilford was sleeping in the library.

She shot a withering glare at the library assistant who moved to stop her from carrying a harmless paper cup into the palace archives. She found it ironic that a harmless beverage was forbidden within the premises while there was a rather ostentatious pistol-sword hybrid strapped to her hips. Needless to say, the assistant backed off with a string of apologies to the Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire.

"Do not bother us," Cornelia snarled in a low tone and dismissed the interruption before coming to a halt next to him. She neither sat nor woke him up. All she did was stare at her friend (and occasional rival), coffee in hand.

Her eyes scanned the page he was reading before snorting softly. She would rather dismantle a Knightmare than spend time reading books on physics, of all things. Vaguely, she wondered if he had been talking to her brother in her absence. Cornelia frowned. As fond as she was of him, the Second Prince Schneizel, she couldn't help but be a little suspicious of her brother and a little protective of her friend. A soft sigh from his direction brought her back, she continued to observe him. He had always been a dedicated student, she mulled. She couldn't say that he was all books either. Inside a Knightmare, his performance was up to par with hers; but she was better, of course, if only because she had "The Flash" herself as a mentor.

Cornelia shook her head at the sight of young Guilford's lips, with its corners currently down turned and pursed into a tight line, even in sleep.

She noticed that the glasses were slipping from his grip. Without much thought, Cornelia reached over with the intent of saving the new frames from clattering on to the table. She cocked an eyebrow when his fingers wrapped around her wrist. Definitely not all books, she thought wryly.

"Good afternoon, Lord Guilford." Cornelia smiled at him.

It would've been a lovely smile if there wasn't a hint of smugness behind it, due to the fact that she caught him sleeping in the library. Royalty, he scoffed with a mental eye roll. Slowly, he released her hand.

"Good afternoon, Princess. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" He responded smoothly, straightening his crisp attire. Guilford started to rise but Cornelia placed a gloved hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle push, mumbling a faint "at ease, soldier", indicating that she didn't want to make a scene. Guilford shot her a questioning look and understood quickly enough. She came to talk to her childhood friend, not a subordinate.

He complied (as he usually does) and settled in his seat, crossing his long legs under the table. Even without the glasses, he studied her attire with a small smile that turned into a grin at the sight of her delicately curved eyebrow.

"Would you want me to turn around for you?" She offered in a tone smothered in sarcasm. He chuckled. They had been friends for a long time; long enough to know that it was her attempt at humor.

He gave a small shrug and reached over for his glasses, "So this is the uniform of the newly appointed captain of the royal guard. You look good, Your Highness." Guilford was rather proud of himself for keeping a straight face when Cornelia flushed ever so slightly (he almost missed it) at his compliment. But the truth was, he found it endearing and it tugged at his heartstrings painfully.

Gilbert G.P. Guilford was one hopeless case.

A comfortable sort of silence took over as he wiped his glasses and she shuffled her weight from one foot to another, leaning slightly against the table for support. She looked past him and stared blankly at the garden on the other side of the glass.

Guilford finally spoke, "What is it like, serving 'The Flash'?"

Cornelia blinked in surprise at the innocent question. He smiled inwardly as he watched her struggle with her answer. As one of the few people in her inner circle, he knew that she had been bursting to tell somebody of what she really felt, being chosen (and without bias, as the Empress had pointed out as she addressed them) from a band of elites to lead Empress Marianne vi Britannia's Royal Guard. It was, simply put, a dream come true. On the other hand, there is Cornelia li Britannia, the proud Second Princess of the Holy Britannian Empire. Fresh out of military school and already they're calling her 'The Goddess of Victory'. Both of them are aware of how important it is for her to excel; she needed to show the world that her appointment was just another milestone, another accomplishment to add to the growing list. She was required to prove her worth.

Guilford waited for her to speak. In one way or another, he had always waited for her, despite knowing that she was more than glad to rush ahead and chase after her goals without a second look back. No, she wasn't selfish; it was a product of their breeding.

His eyes darted quickly to the side, checking if anybody was around. They were alone, for most part and he had chosen this particular spot because he wanted privacy. His steely blue gaze softened considerably as his eyes met hers. His lips curved into a gentle smile and he raised a tentative hand. His fingertips barely brushed against the back of her hand. "It suits you," He murmured before withdrawing his hand quickly, as if he just realized. It wasn't as if he had never held her hand before. He had, back when they were children or when he leads her to the dance floor.

But it's different now. For him, at least. He wasn't presumptuous enough to think that maybe it was different for her too.

For a moment, Cornelia just stared at him. It worried him. Had he said too much? Despite being a confidante, he was still just another soldier compared to her. Although his family was nobility, she was royalty. _But in the end_, a little voice spoke in his head, _she's the girl and you're the awkward boy who's hopelessly in love with her_.

Guilford mentally slapped himself.

What he wasn't expecting was her reaction.

Excitement got the better of her. She pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. He smiled as she began talking animatedly. He had to admit that he missed this. Seeing her. Talking to her. Even the occasional scheming and the friendly competition. She had been gone a month due to her new responsibilities. He had been pretty bored as of late, aside from the Knightmare training he busied himself with thrice a week, while waiting for orders as to where he will be sent. If truth be told, he was preparing to distance himself from her. He knew that she was destined for something else, in fact, he knew that ultimately, Cornelia is gunning for the position of Chief General of the Britannian army. He never doubted her. His bias aside, he knew that she would get there. And he'll be just another sheep in the army.

He smiled wryly as she asked about him. Out of politeness, maybe, so she wouldn't feel bad with her success being the dominant topic.

At her turn to listen, Cornelia frowned lightly. It wasn't because he took over the spotlight, but rather, at the way that he seemed content with the mediocrity of his situation. Her frown deepened and wondered what happened to him. They shared the same dream: to expand the empire with the two of them taking the lead. Well, mainly her, but he wouldn't be far behind.

"- hopefully within a month I'll start receiving orders. I'd rather be personally informed where my death will be than be told in a letter."

Cornelia scowled at him openly.

"What?" Guilford asked blankly.

She hit his arm with a free hand.

"WHAT?"

"Why didn't you tell me you're being deployed soon?" Her voice was low and icy.

_Because you weren't around_. He shook his head, "Isn't that standard procedure?"

"It is. But-"

"Then what's the issue?"

Cornelia opened her mouth but closed it. She had something planned for him. Granted, she knew he wouldn't be too pleased to know of her subtle assistance that will undoubtedly launch his military career and she'd rather be shot than admit that she was helping him and that she actually _needed_ him around.

He watched her lips form a dangerously thin line. "Nevermind," She snapped at him and turned away, tapping her foot impatiently, dismissing him as if he was a child who couldn't understand adult thinking. Guilford shrugged it off, being all too familiar with her little outbursts. This time, he did something that frustrated her and she wasn't going to tell him what that is. A long time ago, he learned not to take it too personally or he'll just lose sleep over it. He chuckled when she rounded on the unfortunate assistant who approached them then and there. He commended the man's courage. She was about to take it out on him when a flash of bright pink suddenly wrapped itself around her waist, talking excitedly.

Even Guilford had to blink.

"I apologize, Your Highness. The Princess suddenly came bursting in and asked where you were." The assistant apologized lamely, looking at Guilford for help. Before he could dismiss the man, Cornelia impatiently waved him away and placed her hand on her younger sister and smoothened her hair as she listened to very word. She even adjusted the flower in the girl's hair. For a moment, their argument had been forgotten. It had always fascinated Guilford how the mere presence of this little girl with her pink hair and big blue eyes can change Cornelia's mood instantly. Then again, who could resist that smile? Already, the six year old Princess Euphemia has the makings of a charmer.

No wonder her older sister is very protective of her.

"Shouldn't you be with Lelouch?"

Euphemia shook her head at her sister and shuffled her feet, "He's playing chess with Clovis. It's not exciting anymore. Clovis would always lose." She shook her head.

Cornelia quirked an amused eyebrow, "Then why don't you save Clovis by asking him to teach you how to draw?"

Again, the girl shook her head.

"What do you want to do?" Cornelia asked her gently.

Guilford was enjoying the exchange, even if he did feel like he was intruding on something private between the two sisters. His eyes were on Cornelia's face most of the time. He smiled wistfully, silently wishing that one day she'd look at him like that too.

Euphemia broke into a giggle. "I just want to give you something," Both teenagers blinked when the little girl started brandishing a short stemmed rose under her sister's nose. "Nunnally's wearing one, I'm wearing one, you should too!"

It took all of Guilford's self control to not laugh at the sight of Cornelia's face, torn between amusement and disbelief. Slowly, she frowned. She couldn't refuse little Euphie's wishes, but neither would she start walking around with a flower in her hair. Never. Especially when wearing the full regalia of her new uniform!

The Second Princess was about to protest and reason with her younger sister when Euphemia turned away from her, most likely sensing refusal. She tried to reach over and place it in her sister's hair but her arm came up short. She even tried standing on tiptoes but Cornelia leaned back, making it impossible. Guilford leaned over and smiled at the younger girl, peering into her eyes. Euphie stared back at him, tilting her head curiously. He held out a hand to her, "Princess, would you like me to help you?"

Cornelia threw him a dirty look, "Gil..." She growled.

He ignored her.

Delicately, Guilford plucked the flower from the little girl's hand and shot a brief, sinister grin at the older girl who sat frozen in her seat. He removed the excess leaves and snapped the stem. Carefully, he moved stray hair from the side of her face and behind her ear before tucking the flower in place. He fought to keep a straight face. Blood flooded Cornelia's cheeks.

Euphemia watched them, mouth curved into a tiny "o".

Guilford tilted his head and addressed the little one, "Pretty, yes?" Euphemia nodded excitedly and remembered her manners; she thanked him for his help. It was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen, aside from the little girl's blushing older sister, of course. Humoring the girl, Guilford stood and bowed to her gallantly.

"My pleasure, Princess."

Euphemia shook her head, pink curls bouncing slightly at her energy. "Don't do that," He looked at her questioningly, "My brothers don't bow to me. If you're going to be my brother soon-"

"Euphie!" Cornelia paled at her sister's comment. She needed to get out of there and save herself from further embarrassment. And vaguely, she had to wonder who planted that idea in Euphie's head; she wouldn't put it past Schneizel, Clovis and Lady Marianne. Or hell, even _Nonnette_. She stood up and tugged at her sister's hand. Remembering the flower, she removed it from her hair and tossed it on the table. She muttered about taking her sister home. Also, she gestured at the forgotten beverage, "Gil, that's for you."

He stared blankly at the paper coffee cup, still slightly baffled by what Euphemia said. Absently, he reached out for the drink and it weighed surprisingly lighter than he expected. Raising an eyebrow, he shook it slightly and noticed there was a subtle mark of color on the lid; a color that he's very much familiar with. Then he realized what her true intentions were, by visiting him.

"Thanks a lot!" He grumbled. In annoyance, he threw a crumpled bit of paper at her retreating form, noticing that she shaking with silent laughter. His cheeks felt hot. It had nothing to do with the way her hips swayed as she struts, he told himself, but in frustration that she, once again, scored one on him.

Guilford tried to get back to his reading but was distracted by the lonely flower on the cold table. As he inhaled its scent, he smiled faintly: he knew nothing about flowers, but he was all too aware of the lingering perfume that did not belong to it.

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><p>Thanks for reading! And an even bigger thanks if you leave a review. ;]<p> 


	2. Speakers

I'm supposed to be a good employee. But hey, I am entitled to a lazy day at the office. Not much thought went into this; I just... wrote. I'd like to give a shout out to those who faved, followed and reviewed. THANK YOU! Hope y'all liked this one.

Disclaimer: Code Geass isn't mine. Dur.

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><p><strong>002 – Speakers (2008 a.t.b.)<strong>

The rumble of machines died down. To those in the know, however, they braced themselves for a fight that was about to blow up in their faces. They weren't involved directly, per se. Nobody else was partaking in this particular exercise, except for the Goddess of Victory and the Spearhead of the Empire. That in itself was something aspiring pilots would want to watch, but their fights? It was a highlight of these (otherwise dull) drills.

"Open the hatch, Darlton." A sharp voice lashed out from one of the speakers. A sigh escaped from the other one.

As Andreas Darlton punched the button, the hissing sound from the cockpit signaled the start of the much awaited argument between the Second Princess and her recently appointed Knight. This wasn't new to him. He had been surprised when he saw it for the first time. He was astonished when Guilford actually talked back at the Princess. But now, it had become a routine whenever training involved the two of them. Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he nodded at the research team to continue downloading the information they acquired from the simulation exercise.

"You really shouldn't have tried that stunt," Darlton spoke into the microphone, directing it to the more silent pilot.

There was an impatient tapping from the other side. "It's my job," Guilford's voice deadpanned.

The scarred man chuckled, "Good luck, Gil."

"Oh, what did he do?" A woman's voice rang out behind him. Everybody in the room froze as she strolled in casually with a cheery smile. In one movement, soldiers saluted the Empress Consort Marianne vi Britannia, former Knight of Six, never mind the fact that she was wearing a heavy-looking navy dress and looked rather out of place in the unforgiving hangar. Darlton did the same. This was the one person who the Second Princess idolized. Frankly, he was in attendance at her demonstration of the Ganymede; the woman was peerless in skill. He didn't particularly care if she was born a commoner. And she was lovelier in person. "Well?" She pressed for an answer.

And apparently, she also liked to be involved.

"He overtook her, Your Majesty."

Her face fell, "That's it?"

"Uh, he saved her?"

"Hmm."

"And died in the process." Darlton added helpfully.

"That's much better! My, she really does hate that, doesn't she?" Marianne grinned as one particular hatch opened and a slim figure emerged. Its movements were quick and angry as it stormed towards the other hatch. A rain of waves fell over Cornelia's shoulder as she pulled the helmet off her head. It also revealed her expression: she was seething. Holding on to the metal railing, she leaned over, face getting angrier. Words they couldn't hear flowed from her mouth. It was a dead giveaway that Cornelia was already yelling at this point.

She took a deep breath when Guilford emerged from cockpit of his pseudo Knightmare before continuing with her tirade. The latter merely ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Too bad they couldn't hear what the Princess was yelling about.

"Cornelia isn't the type to blow up when other people are around," Marianne frowned lightly, tapping her chin, eyeing everybody else in the room. The spectators shuffled uneasily at her scrutiny.

"They're not aware of their audience, M'Lady."

She raised an eyebrow, "Really, they're not aware that they're being watched by almost a dozen soldiers, not counting a handful of mechanics and researchers?"

"When they started, nobody else was here except for me and three others." The Empress raised an eyebrow quizzically. Darlton caught on, quickly enough. "Rumors, Your Majesty. This was _supposed_ to be a private simulation exercise to gather data for the units that will be developed for the Princess and her own Royal Guard, but word travels fast."

"I know," There was a playful gleam in the woman's eyes, "That's why I'm here. Don't tell her."

All soldiers winced as Cornelia threw her helmet at Guilford. The latter dodged it and made another exasperated gesture, most likely infuriating the Second Princess even more. They watched as Cornelia inhaled deeply, marched up to her Knight and poked him in the chest, not caring if the latter was a head taller than she was. The young man rolled his eyes and stood his ground. His mouth flattened into a thin line. His body language was alert, just in case she decides to pounce.

"That young man is a saint," Marianne voice out in a tone laced with undisguised amusement and a tinge of awe. "I see Cornelia not only found a Knight, but a voice of reason, an external conscience and an extension of her patience."

Darlton wondered just how much the Empress knows about the relationship between the Princess - who is, in turn, the captain of Marianne's royal guard - and her Knight. _Probably a lot_, he admitted to himself. He wouldn't be _that_ surprised. Not that he pried but he had seen and heard enough to get the general idea about the two.

"This used to be much more interesting _before_ she Knighted him." A blonde newcomer joined in, frowning as he surveyed the scene. "Now he doesn't answer back."

_Is royalty really this nosy_? Darlton wondered as he saluted the Second Prince.

She waved dismissively, "That's no excuse, Schneizel. I was quite vocal with Charles when I was in the Rounds. And I think I threw a scone at him once," She argued.

The soldier wasn't sure how to react to the Empress' comment. Instead, he decided to keep quiet.

The Second Prince dipped his head before turning to the senior soldier, "Don't you think we should break this up?"

Darlton nodded at the scene before them, "She's almost done, Your Highness."

Schneizel's eyebrows shot up, "Really? How could you tell?"

A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of the older man's lips. He tapped the wristwatch, "Guilford only needs five to ten minutes to withstand the yelling, cursing and to dodge the objects that usually fly in his direction. Since he doesn't respond, as a last resort, she'll try to hit him. That's when he'll calm her down. He figured that fighting back will just keep dragging the argument."

"Isn't that predictable, every time they fight?" She pouted.

"He has other methods, Your Majesty."

"Smart boy," Schneizel observed.

Sure enough, Guilford caught her wrist and stared. Cornelia scowled at him. He shook his head at her, said something and slowly, he brought her hand to his lips.

"Smooth move," Marianne chuckled. Seeing the fun was over, The Flash turned and headed for the direction of the door, while addressing the blonde. "Is Lelouch back with his tutor?"

Schneizel smiled. "Grudgingly, yes. After losing three rounds of chess to me, Your Majesty."

"My boy's smart, Schneizel, but my money's on you." Marianne laughed, "For now, at least."

Now that they were gone, Darlton moved over to the microphone and spoke up, "Princess? We've got the data. I'll be sending the mechanics in a few," He shot a glare at everybody in the room, basically telling them all to go about their business.

In acknowledgment, Cornelia waved a careless hand. As if she knew that nobody else attention to them anymore, she instinctively pressed her body against her Knight. Guilford carefully placed a hand on the small of her back and brought his head lower as she whispered in his ear. With a smile, she pulled away and winked at him before climbing down the ladder as mechanics came in.

With a bemused smile, Guilford soon followed her out.

Darlton rolled his eyes; he didn't need the speakers to know what _that_ was about.

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><p>Thanks for reading! Reviews are much appreciated!<p> 


	3. Stop Interrupting

This is what happens when the real world becomes a bit too demanding. Sigh. I am a corporate zombie. This is the product of a quick 15-minute free-writing exercise – no editing was allowed. And since some of you had been waiting for my updates, here's something that should satisfy the fan girl in you.

Disclaimer: Code Geass isn't mine.

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><p><strong>003 – Stop Interrupting (2013 a.t.b.)<strong>

_She_ couldn't breathe for half a minute.

_He_ had seen her smile, glare, laugh, cry, blush in embarrassment, pale in fright, slur in a drunken state, throw a tantrum or be the merciless Goddess of Victory. Guilford has seen it all on Cornelia's face. He wasn't prepared to see her gape at him like a fish. He wasn't sure if he should be insulted or take a moment and enjoy the new expression. Clearly, it didn't occur to him that his Princess would be surprised by _anything_; not with her hardened mindset.

Guilford cocked an eyebrow, "Yes?"

Quickly, the Princess' eyes narrowed, "Would you be so kind as to repeat what you just told me, my Knight?"

He sighed impatiently, "Princess, I'm here to inform you I've been ordered to participate in the Knightmare demonstration in Pendragon two weeks from now, using the newly completed Gloucester, with the possibility of being summoned to have an audience with His Majesty – your father –"

"Not _that,_"

"–and therefore, I would like to request that you grant me time to prepare for the event as–"

"Gil."

"–I will be piloting as the Knight of the Second Princess and Chief General of Britannia–"

"Hey!" He flinched slightly as she slammed her palm on the table a little too hard. Guilford's frown softened slightly; her wince didn't escape him completely even if he did ignore the scowl on her face. His eyes met hers. He could tell that he had just annoyed the hell out of her. Again.

"–and shaming my Princess would be the last thing that I'd want to do." Guilford finished with his mouth forming the customary flat line he had become well known for.

"I'm _not_ interested in what His Majesty has to say or what he wants." The Second Princess said slowly, "I'm not going to grant you that preparation time; you don't really need it. Also, I trust you enough to know that you won't end up making a fool out of us, both."

Guilford held her stare. If anything, they still have yet to figure out which one of them is the more stubborn one. There was something unreadable in the eyes that haunt him even in his sleep.

"What I'd like you to repeat, my Knight, are the words that I _thought_ I heard you say."

With that, his shoulders relaxed and worry played on the edge of his lips. Guilford, who maintained a respectable distance, closed the gap between himself and the edge of her desk. In fact, the dissatisfaction that he felt with the distance between them urged him to walk around the desk until he was next to her. He reached for her hand, still flat against the cold surface of the antique table. His gestures were gentle – almost _loving –_ as he peeled the silk glove from her hand.

Cornelia waited silently, her eyes never leaving his form. Her glance traveled from his face to their hands. His long, slender fingers massaged her palm gently. She saw his lips move, but no words reached her ears.

"Lord Guilford..." He knew that tone; it was a warning.

"I said, Princess, that should fate deem it fit that I do not come back from the meeting with His Majesty or should something happen at the demonstration, know that I had given my very best in serving you–"

"And...?"

"_And,_" Guilford rolled his eyes at her interruption, "... that I love you and had loved you even before I knew what it was called and I will probably continue to dream of you even if I'm forced to close my eyes forever."

Cornelia fell silent. Guilford lowered his head until their eyes met. He grinned, "Happy now?"

"Not really." She snatched her hand from his.

Unable to help it, he allowed a bit of exasperation to creep in, "Oh sure, trample all over my heart and pride, why don't you?"

She poked his arm, "Let me remind you, Lord Guilford, that you _promised_ that you would crawl out of your grave and always find your way back to _me_ at the end of every single day."

With a sigh, he pressed his lips gently on the back of her hand as he snatched it back. "I'll try, Princess."

The Second Princess tossed her hair haughtily before returning to her work, "After all, a girl needs to be spoken sweet, sweet words to. Even if in private." He saw her mouth quirk into a smile.

With a chuckle, he prepared to leave only to be interrupted – again – by her. She still held on to his hand. Cornelia gave it a gentle squeeze, "Make me proud, Gil. Who knows, my father _might_ just let me marry you."

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><p>Will try to write more soon. Thanks all, for reading and for reviewing!<p> 


	4. Snakes

It took me a while to give this a direction. This is somewhat of a continuation of the previous chapter. Now I have a headache.

Disclaimer: Code Geass is not mine.

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><p><strong>004 - Snakes (2013 a.t.b)<br>**

The corner of her mouth twitched into an irritated scowl. As much as she tried to focus on the large screen in front of them, the sound of her siblings muttering, gossiping and (God forbid) giggling, keep reaching her ears. It was distracting, to put it nicely.

Her brain screamed that it was too early in the day for such.

Even if they are most likely bored to death and could understand very little about the technology and the overall importance of the event, she would have to admit that the annual demonstration had become such a chore to all of them, they only consider it as part of the pomp that the Britannian Imperial Family is rather famous for.

Who gets dressed in a gown at a Knightmare demonstration, anyway? Cornelia (in her military garb) inwardly fumed at the stupidity, impracticality and the general showiness of her family.

And to fuel their need to be adored, they're holding a gala later. There was no way that she could talk her way out of it; she was Royalty, she was Chief General and lastly, they're - supposedly - honoring the participants of today's event (meaning that her Knight will also be forced into attending).

It would take a rebellion or an invasion before she could leave the clutches of the vicious Imperial court.

Damn, they're annoying.

Even if her mind was wandering, at least, she had the decency to feign attentiveness, unlike those around her. She stared resolutely at the screen as it displayed a Knightmare. As far as her siblings are concerned, Knightmares are Britannia's gift to the savage world. Why, the Numbers should be grateful that the Holy Empire of Britannia has graced their lands and had decided to share their culture, giving them a semblance of what a civilized nation is.

Sheltered, the whole lot of them.

They have never seen death first hand and never felt the need to struggle for one's survival. Cornelia highly doubted if they've even heard of the things she witnessed as Chief General. But then again, she supposed that the ongoing politics at court was a struggle for survival in itself. Even if they are on top of the food chain, they still have to fight, even if it was amongst themselves.

Casualties are normal.

Cornelia squared her jaw at the memory of Lady Marianne. Cornelia never deluded herself when she was the Captain of the Royal Guard; she had seen how the other members of the family reacted to everything Marianne does or say. And in addition to that, Marianne made a lot of enemies as the Knight of Six and later on, as an Empress Consort. Cornelia was convinced that it's not the work of terrorists, it was the result of petty politics.

Lelouch thought so too, and look at where that got him and Nunnally.

Her brother, Schneizel, had always commented how candid Cornelia is. He suggested, quite a few times, that she ought to watch their siblings. Even if it was done unconsciously, being backstabbing snakes is pretty much in their blood. Schneizel's main stand was that sometimes, force wasn't necessary if you know the right things to say.

_You can't gun them down all the time_, he had laughed at her grim disposition.

But Cornelia would very much rather have a gun pointed at her head than a knife poised on her back.

The movement to her left brought her attention to the present.

She looked at the blonde as he shifted subtly in his chair, moving his weight to the other side while crossing his long legs. She heard the sigh that came from him and watched a gloved hand twirl his hair idly. He kept looking at his shoes and was inspecting every inch of his sleeve. It took all of Cornelia's self control to not hit Clovis for such a gesture; tiredly, she reminded herself that he was just a boy - a boy who cared nothing about the world outside of his. He's just a boy who was just grateful that he was allowed to be exempted from school just so he could be present at the demonstration.

Despite being exasperating and a bit narcissistic, Clovis is still her charming younger half-brother and was one of the few siblings Cornelia actually cared about - after Euphemia, of course. She couldn't blame him. Cornelia knew her younger brother was bored without either Lelouch, Euphie or sweet Nunnally. He just couldn't relate to Cornelia or Schneizel, no matter how much he tried; he - somehow - always ends up making himself look shallow, foolish and immature compared to them.

And she knew Clovis hated that.

It used to be so different. When Lady Marianne was alive, this wasn't as tedious as it is now. In fact, it was something Cornelia looked forward to every year; she sat with the siblings she actually liked and conversed with the woman she idolized. There was even one year when the Empress had challenged an unsuspecting test pilot.

She missed those days.

"Are you alright, Sister?" Clovis cocked his head to the side and asked, concern evident. She answered him with a stiff nod.

This caught the attention of the one seated on her right, "I heard that today is the Gloucester's public debut. Congratulations, Cornelia. You've outdone yourself."

_There goes the Prime Minister's silver tongue_, Cornelia thought wryly. "Thank you, Schneizel, but I merely designed it around the existing Sutherlands, my men did the brunt of the work by building it."

The older blonde smiled (in a way that made her suspicious), "And your Knight is piloting it?"

_... you know far too much, Brother._ "Yes, he is."

"Then you couldn't have chosen a more suitable pilot than the Spearhead of the Empire himself! I'm looking forward to seeing his performance. Already, I feel that he will not disappoint you, dear sister."

"You are too kind, Brother. I will tell my Knight of your compliments to his skill."

"Why, please do! In fact, I would very much like to commend him personally, Cornelia, for his exceptional service to the Empire and to his Princess."

Cornelia ignored how Clovis' eyebrow arched upwards, a clear sign that the double-meaning behind Schneizel's words are becoming a bit too evident. Some of those who were sitting near them, looked at her curiously. She narrowed her eyes at looked away pointedly, almost stubbornly, hoping the blood rushing to her cheeks wouldn't be noticeable.

With the flourish of his hand, the Second Prince pointed at the screen, as if it wasn't big enough for all of them to see. "It's a fine piece of technology, dear Sister. It will serve the Empire well."

Cornelia stared at the towering machine. Heavier and bulkier than its predecessors and a touch more dramatic, being equipped with a large jousting lance and a cape. She knew which one was hers. It was brighter in color with a customized head and a white cape. The Knightmare moved its head and it gave her the impression that it was staring directly at her. Cornelia knew who was inside its cockpit. She would allow no other person to pilot it.

"Is that new?" The First Prince asked, looking genuinely intrigued.

Cornelia couldn't help but roll her eyes. Personally, Cornelia never had a problem with Odysseus. Not the brightest or most determined, but he was fairly harmless and was generally pleasant. He treats his siblings well; he was just the default candidate to be the next Emperor. Euphie liked him enough. At least he wasn't a tyrant who would force his siblings into servitude should he inherit the throne.

"It's a fifth-generation Knightmare, Brother." Schneizel explained, leaning over to explain. How he manages to be so patient, Cornelia will never know. "It will be exclusive to the Chief General's personal unit. I think they will be first deployed for the establishment of Area Twelve."

Her eyes were fixed on Guilford, who appeared in a smaller screen at the bottom left part of the large display. It was the norm to show the pilot; it would also give them an overview of what was inside the cockpit. Part of the demonstration was to showcase how the pilot is able to maneuver the Knightmare from inside. Although normally, his posture was already perfect (unfailingly straight-backed), but there was something different about him that she couldn't quite figure out. His hair was tied back in a sleek ponytail on the nape of his neck. Clad in the customized flight suit, Cornelia saw that he wore her colors: gold and dark burgundy. The new frames sat on the bridge of his nose. His mouth formed a flat line and his icy stare was (seemingly) fixed at her.

He was waiting for orders.

It suddenly struck her: when did they grow up?

And he grew up to be rather handsome.

Her head was reeling with the images it conjured: two children rowing a boat; a bookish-looking youth who indulged her every whim but stood to protect her against any hostility or slander; her friend, who barely left her side as he feared for her state of mind during her obsessive investigation about Marianne's death; a tall, bespectacled man with a steely gaze that softened every time he looked at her and the smile reserved only for her; a soldier who was agile, in physique and in thinking.

The Second Princess found it a little hard to breathe; finally, she acknowledged that there is truth in something that she shrugged off as a joke, out of convenience. She struggled to classify his words and his actions as harmless teasing. Her reluctance stemmed from the fact that they were _friends_ and it would complicate things infinitely should they allow themselves to go in _that_ direction. She is an Imperial Princess and there was no way in hell that she would be allowed in a relationship with a Knight – a soldier. Covertly? Anything can be unearthed. Truth is that she was afraid that if she does own up to the feelings she had obstinately tried to suppress, it was very likely that they would find a way to tear him away from her; and she _needed_ him around.

His staunch devotion to her was not just that of a Knight; it was because he _cared_ and Cornelia had no doubts that he would die just to protect her. But she didn't want that; she needed him to _live_ and stay where he belonged: next to her.

Euphie was her weakness. Guilford was her strength.

Her heart sank as she spotted the ostentatious crest pinned on the left side of his chest; it was an indication of his position as a Knight of Honor. Cornelia stared at the screen, knowing that she was staring at a Knight who loved his Princess. Unfortunately, For her own selfish reason and for his own safety, the Knight will never know that his Princess did, in fact, love him back.

"Is that the skinny little boy who followed you around like a puppy?" A woman's voice spoke up, so obviously laced with amusement. Guinevere was a strange case. Cornelia did not particularly care for her, but for one reason or another, Guinevere had always wanted to act as the older sister figure. Cornelia thought that she would've given up when she ran off to join the military, but Guinevere still found ways to throw parties whenever she was home and introduce her to (insert shudder here) potential suitors. Cornelia made it a point to avoid awkward conversations with her. "He is rather pleasing to look at. I can see why you chose him, Cornelia."

It took all of Cornelia's common sense to not bare her teeth at her sister. "I didn't choose him because of _that_, Sister."

"You should have." Guinevere gave her a knowing (and an annoyingly superior) smile.

"Isn't he the son of Gaston Guilford?" Cornelia had a feeling this would be brought up. Trust her siblings to dig up somebody's lineage. And it was a lineage that her Knight was rather quiet about and had no intentions of discussing it to anybody.

"Lord Gian has a brother?" A surprised voice – female – piped in.

"Gian's an idiot." Clovis muttered to nobody in particular, but being seated next to him, Cornelia heard it and was grateful.

"Yes, this one's the Spare-head. He will never be a Marquess; their father thinks he'll die in the battlefield within a few years. The younger brother will most likely inherit everything." One of their brothers drawled. "The old man would've disowned this one, if not for the fact that he's closely associated with the Second Princess. If he's good for anything, it's for connections."

"Gil's more Heir material than his gambler of a brother. If he keeps it up, there will be nothing to inherit." Cornelia snarled under her breath. Schneizel, upon hearing this, squeezed her shoulder gently, consolingly; a kind warning to not bother with them.

Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one who heard. "You come to his defense, Sister?"

"Of course!"

"I'm sure you do, you're always with him. Tell me, Sister, have you bedded him yet?"

"Oscar," Schneizel shot their brother a warning look over his shoulder while keeping Cornelia in her seat. "Lord Guilford-" He nodded towards the screen, "-Is an exemplary Knight and an outstanding soldier who is well-deserving of his title, ranking and accomplishments. He is one of Britannia's heroes; a true asset of the Empire."

There was a scoff, but no more comments.

Cornelia was seething. Vicious snakes. She cursed at them in her head. Even though she knew that they have nothing against him, it doesn't save him from being a topic of gossip. She felt a hand on her other shoulder and was surprised to see Odysseus smiling at her rather apologetically.

"He's your Knight, Cornelia. I think you'd be more suited to give him the order."

"Thank you." Cornelia flipped her hair over her shoulder and shot her offending siblings a glare before walking up to the platform, feeling everybody's eyes on her, including that of her Knight's. One hand remained on the weapon strapped to her hips.

"Lord Guilford," She addressed him and paused. What exactly was she supposed to tell him?

"Your Highness," He replied automatically.

"You have my gratitude for being in attendance at today's event. I must ask you to, once again, show the good people of Britannia what sets us apart from the other nations. I require a demonstration of the skill and bravery of its Military, as a soldier and a Knight of Britannia. Will you do this, Lord Gilbert G.P. Guilford?" She could've sworn that his mouth twitched into a faint – almost invisible (to most, but not to her) – smile and his next words made her proud, even though her heart ached in a twinge of longing.

"I am at your command, my Lady."

_Come back to me soon, my Knight._

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><p>Thanks for reading and luv y'all for the kind reviews!<p> 


	5. Colors

Initially I wrote this – yes, all of it – in my Blackberry during the Tuesday storm (Hello, _Pedring_). Strong winds, nonstop rain and blackout all over the Metro. Guess that just gave away where I came from, huh?

This is still a continuation.

I do not own Code Geass. If I did, this wouldn't be a fanfic; this would be canon and I'll make sure it drags on and on and on…

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><p><strong>005 – Colors <strong>(2013 a.t.b)<strong>**

Her perfectly arched eyebrow twitched in annoyance at the sight of her brother's self-important smile. _Of course _he would choose that particular time to play mind games with her. Cornelia watched as he flicked the hair away from his face; it occurred to her how the gesture was so practiced and so... smug.

_Say it, Sister_. Cornelia could practically hear his thoughts, gloating. Much to her dismay, she knew that there was nobody better suited to help her and either she voice out her concern or she might as well just forget it. Clovis - in her book - was _alright_. It was just that Cornelia never imagined something so superficial to plague her and at such an inconvenient time, at that. Her shoulder sagged in defeat as her pride deflated. She couldn't bring herself to look at her younger brother, knowing what she would see there: triumph. Finally opening her mouth, Cornelia had to utter the words and vowed to never repeat them again:

"I've nothing to wear."

"I'm flattered that you remember me in times of crisis, Sister." Clovis rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically. With the tailor finally separating himself from Clovis' attire of white, gold and lavender, the Third Prince scrutinized his reflection before giving a business-like nod of approval (which Cornelia rolled her eyes at).

With a gloved hand, he took his sister's elbow and proceeded to lead her down the corridor, three doors from his private rooms. There was a seamstress and a maid who tailed them. They stopped at a nondescript door. The young man paused and stared at her long and hard, "These are not supposed to come out until next month, Cornelia. But I suppose I could do with a preview. You have to promise me that should anybody ask, tell them it's one of my pieces, understood?"

"Yes, yes," The Second Princess replied impatiently, not entirely seeing what the fuss is about, but could detect the urgency in his voice. Still, she wasn't about to voice it out.

After the event, there had been nothing to do but wait for the gala. However, she wasn't one to stay idle for hours. Cornelia visited Euphie at school, had brunch with Schneizel, held a telecon with Darlton about the situation in Area Twelve, took a solitary stroll in the silent gardens of Aries Villa before returning to her private rooms. The event later that evening kept nagging her consciousness despite all attempts to keep her busy.

Perhaps her restlessness was a result of Guilford's absence. After all, he always accompanied her from breakfast to late night conversations (or work) over coffee. Perhaps that was where rumors spouted and really, none of them bothered to quell the gossip because it was a waste of time. There was even one that hinted at them sharing a bed (and the activities that go along with it); Guilford had been a gentleman in dealing with that even before she found out (and flipped out) and they never spoke of it again.

What would it be like, if that were true? Thinking about it now makes her stomach flutter in embarrassment.

Still, Guilford was undoubtedly the first one she sees in the morning and the last person to bid her goodnight before they part for a few hours of sleep in their separate apartments.

When Clovis flung the doors open to reveal a spacious room populated with rows of mannequins and racks of clothing, she was brought back to the present. Including her current predicament.

Now that she was seeing the world in a whole new light, she wanted to do things just slightly differently to see how it goes.

Gads, she's turning into a girl by the minute.

"Do you see anything you like?" The corner of his mouth curled into a smug smile - he does love to showcase his work, after all, and his sister was one difficult client. And seeing awe playing on Cornelia's often all-business face could be the biggest form of flattery he's ever encountered this year. How he wished he could take a picture of her, but he very much valued his life.

With doubt manifesting itself in her tone and frown, Cornelia tore her eyes away from the gaudy displays, keeping a safe distance from the mannequins. Being slightly overwhelmed by the materials, colors and details was an understatement. Slowly, "Are all of these wearable, Clovis?"

Hey, they are rather different from what she's used to.

Clovis feigned a scandalized gasp. But upon seeing the unimpressed scowl, he raised an eyebrow of his own. "Of course they are. But to make our lives easier, please answer this for me: May I know who you're dressing up for?"

"Myself, maybe?"

The blonde's eyebrow arched even higher, if it was possible. Cornelia blushed, half annoyed that she could be read pretty easily by somebody who does not pay attention to the world around him. Clovis smirked, "I thought so."

"You thought what, exactly?"

"Allow me to rephrase your previous plea for help: you don't have anything to wear that will impress a guy."

"What guy?" Ah. So she was being defensive.

"Are we seriously playing this game, Sister? Or should we just start looking? Because this–" Clovis dared to point at her from head to toe "–needs work."

Cornelia growled.

"Hm, save the purring when you've pinned him to the bed, Cornelia."

"Clovis!"

"Fine, fine." He waved a hand and started rummaging through the nearest rack, biting back a smile. Cornelia was as uptight and downright dangerous as they can get but she is fun to play with. No wonder Schneizel gets a kick out of shooting her compliments that leave her flustered.

She wandered off on her own, grumbling to herself about having nosy family members and not being able to completely trust anybody (except for Euphie, but she wasn't about to discuss delicate matters with her just yet) not completely willing to touch any of the dresses on display. She didn't know what she was looking for; she just thought that once she presented her current problem to her brother, he would have a ready solution. Admittedly, some were suitable, but most of it was too flamboyant for her taste. She wasn't surprised; they did come from Clovis' imagination, after all. It was suffocating, the sea of brights and pastels, of frills and lace. She had half a mind to turn back.

Then she saw the wine-colored fabric peeking shyly from one of the racks.

Almost unconsciously, she reached out for it, expecting a too-festive monstrosity. She was shocked to find a lovely gown of silk. Slowly, she traced the fabric with her hand, unaware that Clovis was watching. Cornelia almost jumped when Clovis suddenly appeared beside her, holding a white box.

"Excellent choice," He quipped, snatching the gown out of her hands. Cornelia found herself being ushered to another room – a guestroom – where she could vaguely head her brother instructing her to use the bath that was prepared for her. Still slightly disoriented, Cornelia took the white box without question and closed the door behind her.

No, this wasn't planned. At all. At least, that was what he would say when asked. Clovis killed time by obsessively checking his reflection, pacing and occasionally knocking on the bathroom door; it took her almost an _hour_ to finish.

When Cornelia stepped out, ever so reluctant, even _he_ was surprised; surprised enough to bolt out of his chair. Almost excitedly, he took her hand and twirled her around, slowly. Cornelia was known for avoiding anything remotely feminine or sexy and often takes refuge in slightly androgynous and military-inspired outfits. Still, wearing nothing but a silk robe and the lingerie he practically forced on her, it revealed what she managed to hide for years: slender limbs, legs that are longer than forever, flawless skin, a pleasantly toned abdomen (that even he was envious of) and _womanly_ _curves_ as proof of God's generosity (or a result of good genes).

If he becomes a Viceroy, he would decree that women should train in the military to get that figure of hers. "My goodness, Cornelia," Clovis whistles appreciatively at the sight of his sister's svelte form, "Lord Guilford sure has astounding self-control. Are you sure you two haven't–"

She slapped his hand away and shook a fist in his direction. "Stop it right there, Clovis. I swear to make your life miserable if you continue." Still, he didn't miss how her cheeks became redder than they already are.

It was suddenly a light bulb moment for Clovis. "Can I paint you?"

"I am going to shoot you in the head in five seconds if you–"

"No need for violence, Sister. I was just checking. A brother is entitled to at least _try _and ask." He raised his hands, palms up, as a gesture of mock surrender before nodding at the maid and the seamstress to help Cornelia with the gown. He ignored how she kept squirming as she was being fussed over, shooting him accusing glares every now and then. Clovis was rather preoccupied with making mental notes of the gown's style and how the color worked perfectly with Cornelia's complexion. He suddenly had to wonder what Cornelia would look like in white. When he finally gathered his thoughts and stored it away in the recesses of his mind, he broke into a grin at the sight of her. Granted, when he had the dress made, he had _her_ in mind, but never did he imagine it to be so perfect.

He was rather proud of himself.

"Turn around, please. Slowly."

It was almost predictable for Cornelia to gravitate towards something that was burgundy in color. The dress itself was fairly no-nonsense, with very minimal detailing. The soft fabric hugged her in the right places, showing off every curve of her body before dramatically flaring out into a trumpet-like train from just above her knee to the floor, leaving a decent amount of fabric to pool around her feet. The only extravagant design on the one-shoulder gown was how the single layer of oversized frills was shaped to resemble the delicate petals of a flower, surrounding her left arm, letting it sit comfortably on her shoulder, leaving both her arms bare and her slender right shoulder, exposed. Cornelia's hair was styled and the soft curls were swept to the side, gathered over her bare right shoulder to balance the detail of the dress. The back was fairly low cut, but nothing indecent.

He caught a whiff of her perfume. Floral.

With her eyes – whose color played along the lines of dark blue to purple – framed by long lashes, curved eyebrows, perfect skin, and the natural flush of her cheeks, Cornelia needed no makeup to look stunning. Except maybe for a swipe of color on her lips.

"Hmm," Clovis made a noncommittal sound as he pointed at the box on the vanity table. Quickly, the maid scurried to retrieve it for him. "Finishing touches." He explained, with a smile, showing his sister the contents of the box: a slim diamond choker and an intricately crafted silver cuff bracelet. He knew that she wasn't one for too much jewelry so he opted for the bracelet.

"Has she seen herself?" Clovis rolled his eyes at the sheepish servants and impatiently motioned for a large mirror to be brought forth. "Look." He smirked, urging his sister to at least glance at her reflection.

Cornelia ogled at the stranger who stared back. She – whoever the girl is – was...

"Perfect. You can thank me later. We're not done yet." Her younger brother shot her a charming smile. She wasn't vain, but she found herself agreeing, even if she was unable to voice it out. She knew Clovis could tell that she liked it very much.

Who knew that the Chief General was actually a woman? A disarmingly attractive one, at that. It was baffling.

Gallantly, Clovis offered his arm which Cornelia, out of upbringing and instinct, took graciously. In companionable silence, they stalked the hallways until they've reached the car that will take them to the event. It was no more than a five minute drive. Still, none of them spoke. Cornelia sat unnaturally still and eyed the brightly lit architecture ahead of them. Slipping out before her, Clovis dismissed the servant and opened the door himself, mirroring his previous action of offering his arm to her. The sight of the Third Prince and the Second Princess parted the crowd easily; they bowed, curtsied and murmurs of "Your Highness" trailed behind them as the two passed.

She could feel the eyes lingering on her.

Cornelia suddenly panicked; it's been a long time since she attended one of these things but with Clovis' reassuring look, Cornelia stood tall, proud and beautiful.

"Sister?" The younger muttered. "I've been thinking..."

"Yes, Clovis?" The waltz engulfed them.

For a while, he hesitated. He might not be as brilliant or as promising as Schneizel and Lelouch are and he could be as arrogant as any of the Imperial Children, but it remains that Clovis has a special gift of sensing what most people refused to show. It certainly helped him become popular with women. He could read them easily and thus, charmingly offer them what they need or let them hear what they want. He had seen and felt Cornelia's agitation at the demonstration, particularly when her Knight was at the mercy of the court.

Clovis was not stupid; Guilford has been around for as long as he could remember and he knew that the man loved her. Clovis had no idea how he managed it, but he was quite possibly one of the few who can make her genuinely happy. Cornelia rarely trusted anybody and Guilford was quite possibly the only one outside of the family who earned that trust. Clovis hadn't been sure of Cornelia's feelings, until this morning.

Cornelia, try as she might to hide or deny it, did love him back. She managed to fool the rest into thinking otherwise, but he was one of the few who knew her well enough to _know_. He wasn't going to judge her for it. In fact, he felt bad for her - the only way they could have a happy ending was either if she was disowned or she denounces her claim as an Imperial Princess or if the Emperor himself would agree to their union and both seemed a tad unlikely.

It was a tragedy worthy of novels. Or a painting. The Princess and her Knight.

It saddened him as reality sunk in. But, he was going to fight it for as long as he could and he will urge her to do the same.

He knew the exact moment when his sister locked eyes with the tall, bespectacled man who was all the way across the room. Clovis felt Cornelia's hand, suddenly gone cold. He watched in awe as there seemed to be an instinctive pull between the two. He could've sworn that there was an involuntary twitch on her part, as if she was itching to close the distance between her and Guilford.

It took all of Clovis' self-control to not laugh as he saw that they matched; Guilford, who was making his way towards them, wore a sharply tailored uniform, reminiscent of the one he wore at his Knighting ceremony. His badge, a proof where his heart and loyalty lies, sat proudly on the lapel.

For the second time that day, he looked at Cornelia seriously, "Sister, I need you to enjoy yourself–" The older of the two made an exasperated sound. "–And by that," Clovis continued, pretending he was not interrupted, "I mean that you should not think of your duties as Second Princess or as Chief General, but as a woman. Even if it does not feel that way, you are entitled to a little bit of happiness, and more so when and because you're in the company of, if not in the arms of, somebody you love. You are aware that it will be a long time before you get a chance to be like this again. For goodness sake, please do not run from him when he tells you or shows you that he loves you because you know he does. I, for one, am not faulting him for it."

He half expected a dismissive retort. However, he was surprised when Cornelia broke into a timid but grateful smile. He was astounded when Cornelia, the proud Second Princess and Chief General of Britannia, kissed his cheek. "Thank you, little brother."

"You're a Princess, Cornelia. Go make your own fairytale even if it will only last for a night." With that, Clovis withdrew his arm and took a step back, nodding in acknowledgment to his sister's Knight as Guilford bowed to him.

Clovis couldn't help the faint smile as he watched the poignant scene of a man kneel before his Princess. Cornelia extended a hand to him, murmuring something he couldn't hear. Clovis watched as the Knight took his Lady's hand and kissed it softly; letting his lips graze her knuckles for as long as he could without being improper. Clovis observed how the smile never left Cornelia's lips and how it reached her eyes, normally hard and unforgiving, now softened with just a hint of what he knew to be what she truly felt, at the sight of her Knight.

When Guilford offered his arm to Cornelia and she accepted it, Clovis knew it was time to find something else to occupy his attention for the rest of the evening.

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><p>Ah, how I love inserting little ironies. Can you spot 'em? Thanks for reading!<p> 


	6. Burn

Sigh. I've missed these two. This is the last installment in this series. After this, I'll proceed to the "present" (within the timeframe of the anime).

Code Geass is not mine.

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><p><strong>006 – Burn (2013 a.t.b)<strong>

He stared at the massive painting that hung on her wall. It was identical to the one in Euphemia's room. It was a portrait of the two, wearing white dresses and tiny angel wings. Cornelia was in a surprisingly girlish pose. He smiled wryly and stared at the younger version of his Princess.

She was beautiful. She wasn't an _angel_ though; everyone knew that.

Guilford shook his head as she came up to him, taking the empty glass from his hand. His mouth formed a tight line. As a response, she rolled her eyes at him, "Don't be a baby."

"You do realize that I have work tomorrow?" He said, keeping his face serious.

"You do realize that I," Cornelia mimicked him as she shoved the glass in his hand, "... just so happen to be the officer you'll be reporting to tomorrow?"

"That's considered as abuse of authority, you know." He sighed and raised the glass in defeat.

"I'm Royalty. It's what we do."

For a moment, they drank in silence. Cornelia snorted in amusement as Guilford made a face. He could pretend to not like it, but she knew that he appreciates the slow burn of alcohol. She picked up the bottle and studied the label, "My brother's very generous, isn't he?" The Princess drawled as her thumb ran over the gold sticker on the bottle.

Guilford raised his head and cleared his throat, imitating the voice of the Second Prince at the gala earlier that evening. "_'A bottle of the world's oldest brandy for the Spearhead of the Empire, with our thanks and admiration.'_" He sighed, "The whole title sounded so wrong, you know?"

Cornelia threw her head back and laughed. When the scowl deepened, Cornelia reduced her laugh to a soft chuckle. She pats his arm carelessly, idly letting it linger, her hand becoming lighter and more comforting. "It's his way of saying that you ought to relax a bit. Enjoy the last few hours of your reprieve. You work too much."

"So says the 'Goddess of Victory'," He teased.

It was her turn to blush. It was an annoying weakness of hers; she was arrogant as hell, but she never did learn how to respond well to sincere flattery. Only five people can get away with teasing her, leaving the Princess flustered: Schneizel, Nonette, Lady Marianne, Euphie and him. It didn't last though, she tossed her hair over her shoulder haughtily. He rolled his eyes at the blatant show of egotism.

They stood side by side, studying the portrait. He couldn't help but notice that there was something off about her. "Your Highness?"

She closed her eyes, "Stop calling me that for tonight, will you?"

"Yes, Princess."

Cornelia cracked an eye open, "That too."

"Fine."

She swirled the contents of the glass, eyeing the dark amber liquid. "Can I be honest with you?" She whispered, bringing the glass closer. Cornelia looked at him and instantly wished she didn't. His icy stare held hers. The intensity she saw there, it scared her. She wasn't sure when it was, exactly, that she started noticing the way he looked at her, the way he spoke to her. Neither could she deny the way he held her as they danced in front of the entire Britannian peerage, it amazed her how he managed to bare his heart solely to her and hide the truth from their predatory scrutiny.

God, why didn't she see it before?

"Always." They both knew the double meaning behind those words.

"Anyway," The Second Princess broke their eye contact. She couldn't look into those eyes that offered her so much. She stared, unseeing, at the glass she cradled in her hands, "When I Knighted you, I felt like I was making the biggest mistake of my life."

They both winced at the harsh words.

His face was unreadable. He saw this coming. He was expecting it. But his truth was that it still hurt him to hear it from her. Atleast, it took a little over five years before she regretted her decision. It had to count for something. Right? Guilford forced a smile. It came out looking sad. "I did tell you that I may be unworthy."

_Unworthy_? Cornelia frowned.

"You fool." She shook her head, hair framing the sides of her face, and shrugged. "You're the _Spearhead of the Empire_; Ace pilot, tactician and at the age of 20, you were the youngest general in the Britannian army. You led the campaign for Area Nine. You're a freaking _hero_, Gil. You are, if anything, far from being unworthy. I wouldn't be surprised if they've commissioned to have commemorative plates of you."

He tilted his head to the side, ignoring the faint pounding inside his skull and the heavy feeling constricting his chest, "Am I unworthy of you, then?"

She looked at him sharply.

_Goddamit._ He glared at the drink in his hand, blaming it for the sudden surge of bravery (and stupidity) and bowed his head, "I apologize, Your Highness." Guilford knew he should've kept his mouth shut. It was going so well, too. With a sigh, he ran his hands through his hair, unsure what he should say. _It was all a big mistake._ Despite nursing his shattered pride and a broken heart, Guilford knew he'd still willingly serve the Princess he swore his life to. Shaking his head, Guilford placed the glass on the nearest end table and decided to just leave before it blew up in their faces. They'd fought enough times as children and teenagers to know how an argument begins.

Cornelia grabbed his arm, knocking over the glass in haste. The drink spilled all over the carpet. He stared. She whirled him around and looked up at him. She needed him to understand. "A Knight is someone who'd lay their life for you without question. And I'm not just a Princess. I'm the Chief General! I don't want you to be my shield." Her voice broke and so did his heart at the sight of her.

Unable to help it, he snorted. "'_Does thy wish to abandon thy self, and be sword and shield for the sake of the greater good_'," He echoed her words. It had been years ago, but he'll remember her face and her voice in that moment until the end of his days. "What is that, then? A joke?" He stared at her, "And what of earlier? Is that a mistake too?"

A hand colided with his cheek. He stared at the wall, the pain on the side of his face temporarily distracting the dull ache in his heart. She stares at him, dumbfounded. Cornelia inhaled and exhaled shakily before wiping the angry tears from her eyes. She pushed him away, but his hand was faster. His fingers wrapped themselves around her wrist.

Cornelia glared at him. Guilford stared back, eyes conveying everything - hurt, apology, heartache. It made her angrier. How could he look apologetic when she was the one who slapped him? And to her surprise, he knelt before her for the second time that evening, ignoring the fact that he was missing the stiff jacket, his shirt was wrinkled and partly unbuttoned (the cravat lay forgotten somewhere in this room) and she was only one layer away from just being in her lingerie. He held her hand in his, "You know I'd die for you, Princess."

The promise in his voice scared the living hell out of her. Oh yes, he was serious about _dying_ for her.

"Didn't you hear me? It's not what I want!" Cornelia shouted, "If you die while protecting me, it's as if I killed you, Gil. Do you understand? I refuse to see you die in front of me. But you-" She jabbed her finger at his chest angrily, "-just had to let me sign your death warrant for you! I thought I was helping you by Knighting you. God. How stupid of me to think that. I would've helped you more if I left you alone!"

For the life of him, he didn't know how their intimate time together and playful banter turned into this conversation. Internally, he smiled humorlessly.

_Fuck you, world's oldest brandy._

Cornelia fell silent and watched their hands, fingers still laced together. The other one found its way to cup his chin, tilting it upwards so he'd look at her. She watched as his eyes widened, "Swear to me, then." Cornelia murmured. He opened his mouth in confusion but Cornelia pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. "I want you to swear to me, _Lord_ Gilbert G.P. Guilford, that you will always return to me _alive_. Since you're so adamant to serve me, you'd better not dare dishonor that pledge." Her eyes burned into his.

_I need you_, Cornelia's mind whispered. _And damn you, I love you_. She could only hope that his heart would hear.

He bowed his head and brushed his lips against her knuckles, holding her hands tighter. Cornelia sighed in relief and sat on gilded divan. Their _relationship_, if one could call it that, has always been so draining. But it was never dull. Unconsciously, she crossed her legs. Guilford raised an eyebrow at the sight of her alabaster skin. It didn't help as she toyed with his hair idly. Her touch burned him. Why was it that she was never really conscious of how attractive she is? He chuckled softly and let go of her hand, reaching for her ankle instead. From there, it slowly travelled up her slender calf, knee and coming to rest on her thigh, parting the robe just a smidgen wider. His thumb drew circles against the soft skin. His touch was slow, gentle and held a hint of teasing from an experienced lover.

Color flooded to Cornelia's cheeks as she remembered every touch, every kiss and whisper they shared earlier. She craved all of it. She masked her embarrassment. No way she would admit it aloud. "Why is it that you're good at everything that you do?" She asked in a slightly annoyed tone, as if it would hide the color of her cheeks and the sudden rise in the room's temperature.

"I make it a habit to excel," Guilford murmured against her skin as he placed a kiss on a spot just above her knee. His perfect teeth flashed briefly before clamping on and tugging at the ribbon that held her robe together.


End file.
